


Distance

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: That's the problem with broken things. There are hiccups.





	

The bathroom floor was cold against her thighs, the door beginning to dig into her back and make her far too aware of the pressure at her spine. Still, Séverine didn’t move. 

There were two inches of finely crafted wood between her back and Raoul’s, but at that moment she was wondering if it might as well be two miles. She could feel him there, even though she couldn’t see him – the man had such a commanding presence, and even if he hadn’t, Séverine was far too accustomed to the art of reading the presences of men. She could tell he was sitting with his back pressed to hers because she knew he could feel where she was too, but he wasn’t sitting quite as hopelessly as she was. He was leaning his head back, she knew, looking up at the ceiling, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, almost like a child lost in a daydream. 

She didn’t know how he did it, but some days she felt decades older than him.

Some days, anyway. Séverine closed her eyes and leaned back against the door. She was beginning to feel stupid now, knowing that she had overreacted, knowing that she had acted like a child. She thought she had long outgrown the days of storming out of a room, or of having such a desire to be by herself, with something physically separating her from everyone else. Perhaps she had just spent all those years repressing it. After all, there was no point in having a desire to run if you never had anywhere to run to. Such false hope had only ever been more damaging.

Perhaps this wasn’t childish, then. Perhaps this was an exercise of freedom; a test to see if Raoul meant it when he said he would never harm her. She hated herself for pushing her luck. She couldn’t ever forget when she had first laid eyes on him; how she had known he was dangerous. He was still that man, despite the time that had passed. For all she knew, he could have a gun levelled at her head right now. She would have no idea.

Séverine gave a thin smile. _Let him_ , she thought, and for a moment believed it. 

The floor was growing increasingly uncomfortable and she felt stupider by the second. She shifted slightly, feeling parts of her leg beginning to tingle as she lost feeling in it. She moved carefully, worried that her movement might cause some kind of change in the situation, but if Raoul heard her he didn’t say anything – and of course he had heard her. Séverine tried to think of something to say, knowing that it would only get worse the longer she left it, but her words had fails her. She lowered herself back down into a sitting position and realised it was no more comfortable. 

_It isn’t like this is the first time you’ve been uncomfortable_ , she told herself firmly, though it was quickly followed by a thought that wasn’t hers, that sounded too much like Raoul: _but I don’t have to be uncomfortable anymore_.

“Stupid,” she whispered, fighting the urge to bang her head against the door.

“You aren’t stupid,” Raoul said, and Christ, she had forgotten how good his hearing was. 

She froze for a long moment, wondering if she should take the opportunity presented to her. She tried to think about what Raoul would prefer. Of course he would like it if she showed a little more maturity, but she wondered if she had blown her chance already.

“This was stupid,” she said, and inexplicably her eyes burned with tears. She blinked them away, growing angry with herself. 

“Alright,” Raoul said, and she practically felt him shrug. “Say it was stupid. But that still doesn’t mean you are. We all do stupid things, when we get upset.”

“I bet you don’t,” Séverine said, almost pouting before she stopped herself. She wished she could have stopped herself saying that, too.

“No,” Raoul said, and she heard him laugh. “But I am not you.”

“You’re you,” she said, and she couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. “And you never do anything like this, ever.”

Raoul laughed again, much to her frustration. 

“You have a very selective memory sometimes,” he said, and she sighed, closing her eyes again for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean it literally. Or, I suppose I did. Whatever. I meant that you’ve probably never locked yourself in a bathroom to sulk.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Raoul asked, humming thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t call it sulking. You were upset. It’s perfectly normal to seek out a place where no one can get to you when you’re upset. Anywhere with a lock will do, I find. Bathrooms, therefore, are highly convenient.”

Despite herself, Séverine felt amusement tug briefly at her lips. 

“So have you?” she asked, not wanting to let the moment go so soon.

“Does it count if no one else was there to see it?”

She could hear the amusement in his voice, too, so figured it was safe to say what she thought.

“I would think that’s worse. If no one’s there, who’s going to disturb you?”

Raoul laughed properly this time, and Séverine heard him shift back against the door, his head still back just like hers.

“I suppose that is a good point. I suppose it’s a psychological thing, then. A physical lock is always better. Sturdier, don’t you think? Even if nothing’s there. Like how you would hide under the blankets as a child. In my experience, if something is very wrong, a lock won’t stop it from happening. But it’s nice to have there.”

“I guess,” Séverine said uncertainly. It wasn’t as though it didn’t make sense – it did – but there was still a part of her that couldn’t see it as anything other than stupid. After all, she got the impression that Raoul was referring to physical dangers; god knows a man like him probably had many of them. It was ridiculous to compare her situation to that, when it was all in her head. 

“Are you coming out any time soon, or should I get comfortable?” Raoul asked, and, still dwelling on those thoughts, Séverine heard herself snap slightly when she replied.

“You don’t have to sit out there and babysit.”

“I’m hardly babysitting,” Raoul said, unbothered by the bite to her words. “But it wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone while you’re so upset. Unless, of course, you want to be alone, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“I locked myself in a bathroom,” Séverine said shortly, and she heard a beat of silence before Raoul shifted.

“I suppose, in that case, I’ll leave you to it.”

She heard him begin to stand and panic gripped her chest; she sat up a little straighter, her heart thudding.

“Don’t.”

Her voice was practically a squeak, but for once she didn’t allow herself to feel shame. There was another pause, and she heard him settle back again. 

“I –” she began, but he cut her off with a soft tut.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he said, and she swallowed the words back.

“It must be –” 

“Annoying?” Raoul asked casually. “Boring for me, out here? Frustrating? Embarrassing, even? Nonsense.”

Séverine swallowed again, knowing not to argue. She didn’t even know if she wanted to, or if she just felt she should. 

“I’ll try not to do it again,” she said instead, because if she could make a promise she would have something to do; if she gave herself something to do she would have some control over this, whatever it was. No matter how impractical or seemingly impossible, surely it was something?

“There will come a time where, hopefully, you won’t feel the need to,” Raoul said. “But until that day comes, it would probably be best to not fight it. I’ve found that usually yields unsatisfactory results.”

“Unsatisfactory results?” Séverine repeated. “More unsatisfactory than this?”

“Oh, without a doubt. Sometimes a situation calls for a bit of old-fashioned repression, but I would recommend against it whenever possible. Besides, what do you think will happen? Do you think I will get angry with you? Do you think I’ll get fed up of you?”

Séverine tried to deny it, but there was a lump in her throat that wouldn’t let her. 

“You know I would never,” Raoul said, as though he sensed her doubt. “You know I love you. What kind of person would I be, if I threw out the things I loved?”

There was a touch of bitterness to his voice that she knew wasn’t directed at her; she left it, knowing that it was best not to ask. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” she said quietly, shifting around slightly so she could press the side of her body against the door instead, almost as though she were leaning into him.

“Good,” Raoul said simply, as though that settled the manner completely. “If you believe one thing, believe that. These things can cast everything into doubt, but you mustn’t lose your head.” 

Séverine leaned closer to the door and promised him she wouldn’t.


End file.
